Birth Order
by Cirdan
Summary: Easy reading for a change. And AU. The premise of this story is simple: what if Maedhros had been the youngest son of Feanor and Maglor the eldest? The Silmarillion would be different, no doubt. Ch 1 is the torment on Thangorodrim.


Standard disclaimer: All the characters, locations, some quotes, and the initial conception of this world belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, whether it be from Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, or The History of Middle-earth Volumes I-XII. This disclaimer applies to all subsequent chapters of this fic.  
  
Warning: This tale is distinctly AU.  
  
  
  
Birth Order  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Feanor led the Noldor forth from Tirion against the advice of the Valar. With him were his seven sons: Maglor the great singer, Celegorm the fair, Curufin the crafty, Caranthir the dark, Amrod and Amras the twin hunters, and Maedhros the tall. Wickedly were the Teleri slain for their white ships, and, upon the borders of the wasteland Araman, Mandos pronounced the Doom of the Noldor. Finarfin, grieved by the Kinslaying at Alqualonde, turned back, but Feanor would not turn back. Nor did any of Finarfin's sons return with him to Tirion. Still farther north did they travel until, at last, Feanor perceived that the Helcaraxe was unpassable and decided to seize the ships and cross the waters. The sea was narrower in the north, and so Feanor's host passed without loss.  
  
When they landed, Maglor the eldest of his sons and before the friend of Finrod ere Morgoth's lies came between them, said to Feanor, "Now what ships and rowers will you spare to return, and whom shall they bear hither first? Finrod the Faithful?" (1)  
  
Then Fëanor laughed as one fey, and he cried, "None and none! What I have left behind I count now no loss; needless baggage on the road it has proved. Let those that cursed my name, curse me still, and whine their way back to the cages of the Valar! Let the ships burn!" (2)  
  
Then Maglor alone stood aside as the white ships of the Teleri were burned at Losgar. From afar, the hosts of Fingolfin and Finrod saw the red glow and knew that Feanor had betrayed them. Thus, the Prophecy of the North began its dreaded course.  
  
It is told that Feanor and his sons then fought in the Dagor-nuin- Giliath, Battle-under-Stars, and it was in this first battle of the Noldor that Feanor perished. But at his death, he laid it upon his sons to hold to their oath and avenge their father. Thus was the Doom of the Noldor sealed.  
  
This is the tale of the exiled Noldor in Beleriand.  
  
---  
  
"An embassy has come from Morgoth, acknowledging defeat and offering to surrender a Silmaril," Celegorm reported to Maglor.  
  
"There is no doubt in my mind that Morgoth will not be faithful to his words," Maglor said. "He is a Master of Lies and not to be trusted."  
  
"Then let us slay this embassy and send his head back in answer," Caranthir suggested.  
  
"No, let us simply chase him away," Maglor said. Celegorm grinned and called Huan to his side. "No, wait, Celegorm! I have another idea. Perhaps we should play the Dark Lord's game."  
  
"What mean you, brother?" Celegorm said. He was antsy after the death of their father and eager to do violence to the enemy.  
  
"Morgoth thinks that the Noldor are still as stupid beasts that have lived in gilded cages, but he does not understand that we are capable of learning even from his evil," Maglor said. "Let us pretend to treat with him and bring with us a great force. Doubtless, Morgoth will do the same, but ours will be the greater."  
  
"This is a dangerous tactic, Maglor," Curufin said. "We are yet new to such deception."  
  
"It's not difficult. We simply pretend to go with open hearts but bring our swords beneath our cloaks." Maglor glanced at Celegorm, Curufin, and Caranthir. "The three of you will make ready upon horseback and lead a swift army to our aid when the trap has been sprung." He looked to Amrod, Amras, and Maedhros. "And the three youngest of us will lead a third host on foot. You will start off when the cavalry upon horseback set out, but you will arrive to the battle after them. Do you understand?"  
  
"We understand," Celegorm said. "But Maglor, bare in mind Curufin's words. We are new to deception, and all may not go as you plan."  
  
Maglor nodded. "I know this. That is why I will lead the peace- making company forth. If anything should go amiss, do not come after me. That was the mistake of our father. Feanor pressed forth brashly and was slain. Rather than throw your lives away to save me, you must preserve our soldiers to fight another day."  
  
"Maglor, you should not speak with such dark foreboding," Maedhros said.  
  
"It is necessary." Maglor turned to Celegorm. "If I should fall, you are to be King of the Noldor after me. We have already failed our grandfather Finwe and our father Feanor. Do not fail me."  
  
Celegorm's forehead furrowed. "I do not like this any more than Maedhros, but I will obey you, Maglor."  
  
"And I will make sure that our brother does not fall prey to the battle lust," Curufin offered.  
  
"Good, Curufin. I will be counting on you all," said Maglor.  
  
The sons of Feanor prepared their forces. Maglor set forth with a small company, and his brothers waited to charge to his side. As expected, Morgoth was not true, but with the company were balrogs. Maglor's company was overwhelmed before the cavalry could arrive, and Maglor alone was taken captive. Celegorm halted his company. There was no point in charging into a battle that had ended.  
  
Morgoth demanded that the sons of Feanor surrender in return for Maglor's safe return. But Celegorm had no faith in the promises of the Master of Lies and knew that Maglor would not be released whatsoever they might do. The sons of Feanor retreated to their camp at Hithlum and refused to treat with the enemy. Thus, Morgoth took Maglor and hung him by his right wrist on the face of a precipice upon Thangorodrim.  
  
At that time, the host of Fingolfin came to Mithrim. They unfurled banners of silver and blue, and they let blow their silver trumpets. The Sun rose then for the first time, and the Orcs fled from its dreadful light.  
  
---  
  
"Where else could they have come from? They must have crossed the Grinding Ice," Curufin said.  
  
"Damn it! Why didn't they just turn back?" Celegorm raged. He was no less fearful in his temper tantrums than Feanor.  
  
"Do you think them ghosts?" Curufin said calmly. He, alone of the brothers, had been immune from the anger of their father, and so Curufin did not tremble at his brother's rage either.  
  
"Of course not," Celegorm snapped. "But I think them fools. We had deemed the Helcaraxe uncrossable, yet Fingolfin pushed them onto the Ice. Doubtless they blame us for their torment upon the Ice."  
  
"Their numbers are greater than ours," Maedhros said. "They are assets in the war against Morgoth."  
  
"If they do not turn to war upon us first, Little Brother!" Celegorm screamed.  
  
Caranthir sneer and added, "They follow Fingolfin, the self-styled King of the Noldor."  
  
"We must make peace with Fingolfin's host," Amrod said.  
  
"If we do not, Morgoth will defeat our hosts individually, and the Valar will laugh at our folly," Amras said.  
  
"Would you bend your head to Fingolfin?" Celegorm shouted. "Would you go to those who you left behind and beg for their forgiveness?"  
  
"But what of Maglor?" Maedhros said. "Are we to leave him for dead?"  
  
"And what would you have us do, Maedhros?" Celegorm said. "Should we ask Fingolfin for his aid and storm Angband in search of him? Bend our knees to the lesser line of the King and confess that we have lost both Feanor and Maglor? Or perhaps we should go ourselves in search of Maglor. Do you think we stand a chance with such a strategy?"  
  
"Celegorm!" Maedhros cried out in frustration. His brother would not listen and refused to think rationally.  
  
Celegorm's eyes glinted dangerously. "Yes? Do not forget, Maedhros, that I am now rightful King of the Noldor. I will decide the fate of the Noldor."'  
  
"We will follow your lead, Celegorm," Curufin said smoothly.  
  
"We will wait," Celegorm said. "Let us see what Fingolfin does. If he sends an embassy, we will devise an answer. If Morgoth sends out armies, then we may be spared from humiliation before our friends and die in combat." Celegorm laughed as one fey.  
  
---  
  
"We're all doomed if Celegorm becomes king," Maedhros grumbled.  
  
"Do not say such things, Little Brother," Amrod said. "If he hears, he will call you traitor."  
  
"Celegorm is second born. Not until now has he had to deal with the reality of being leader of the Noldor," Maedhros said. "I don't think he can handle it."  
  
"Whether or not he can handle it, we must support him," Amras counseled. "What would you do instead, Maedhros? Crawl on hands and knees to Fingolfin as Celegorm said? They will not forgive us. We are on our own."  
  
"Maglor would find a way to heal the feud that divides the Noldor," Maedhros said confidently.  
  
"Maglor is not here," Amrod said hotly. "No more of this, Maedhros. It grieves me to think of what torment he may be enduring."  
  
"And it torments me more to think that we can do nothing," said Amras.  
  
"But I will not listen to our youngest brother insult our valor," Amrod said.  
  
"We would rescue him if we could..."  
  
"...but what hope have we against all of Morgoth's servants behind the Gates of Angband?"  
  
"We must bide our time..." started Amras.  
  
"...and avenge his death..." continued Amrod.  
  
"...if death was granted to him," finished Amras.  
  
"If not..."  
  
".we may yet have a chance..."  
  
"...to rescue our brother."  
  
Maedhros stared at the twins. They were talking as one. It was definitely a bad sign. It meant they were too agitated to separate their sentences and thoughts from each other. Maedhros knew he'd gone too far.  
  
"You're right, brothers," Maedhros said in a conciliatory tone. "I'm sorry. I spoke hastily."  
  
"It's all right," Amras said.  
  
"We're all under a lot of stress right now," Amrod said.  
  
After the twins left, Maedhros gathered a knapsack of basic necessities. Black clouds were billowing forth from the dungeons of Angband, obscuring even the Sun. Under the cover of this darkness, Maedhros set out to rescue Maglor. He climbed the threefold peaks of Thangorodrim, but from that vantage point, he could see no way to win through to Angband and yet remain unseen. Maedhros cried out and then sang the Noldorandenie, the Lament for the King of the Noldor, which Maglor had composed during the voyage over the seas to Middle-earth. It had been composed for Finwe, the First King of the Noldor, but now it represented the fall of three kings: Finwe, Feanor, and Maglor.  
  
Then Maedhros heard another voice taking up the Lament. It was Maglor singing amidst his torment. Maedhros climbed to the foot of the precipice where his eldest brother hung, and then he could go no farther.  
  
"Maglor!" Maedhros cried out. He called to his brother several times before Maglor at last perceived that one had come to help him.  
  
"Maedhros?" The voice barely carried in the wind, but Maedhros knew what was being spoken.  
  
"Maglor! I am here to help you," Maedhros said.  
  
"This bond upon my wrist cannot be broken," Maglor said.  
  
"Let me try before we despair." Maedhros tried to climb the precipice, but it was too steep. He tried to sink his knife into its face, but the rock was too hard, and the knife could not take hold. Maedhros punched the base of the precipice in frustration.  
  
"Have you your bow, my brother?" Maglor asked.  
  
"Yes!" Maedhros drew it forth eagerly.  
  
"Then use it to shoot me, I beg of you," Maglor said. "There is no hope of freeing me, so use your swift arrow to spare me from further anguish."  
  
"What are you talking about, Maglor?" Maedhros drew forth and arrow and tied an end of his light rope to its shaft. "I had thought you'd come up with this idea, but it seems you are too deep in your despair. I will be with you soon," Maedhros promised. "Please be careful, Maglor. The weight of this arrow is unsteady because of the rope, and the winds are strong. I may miss my mark.  
  
Maedhros strung the arrow and bent his bow. He aimed for the top of the chain from which Maglor hung, but fate was not with him. Perhaps the winds of Manwe did not favor the exiled Noldo because he had not asked for Manwe's aid or pardon. The arrow flew astray and struck Maglor!  
  
Maglor cried out. The arrow had pierced his hand, and from that wound, blood spilled down the arm from which he hung.  
  
"Maglor!" Maedhros screamed. Tears welled in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Maglor!" He wondered if he should've just shot his eldest brother rather than cause him further anguish.  
  
"No, Maedhros," Maglor said at last. "No, your arrow may have missed its mark, but it has helped awakened my will to live. I grew too used to the pain caused by Morgoth and forgot about the pain of my people."  
  
With great effort, Maglor reached up with his left arm and drew the arrow out of his hand. Maedhros grimaced seeing the pained look on Maglor's face. Maglor then tied the rope to a link in the unbreakable chain. When that was done, Maglor exhaled deeply and let himself fall limp on his single manacle once more.  
  
Maedhros did not need to be prompted. As soon as he saw that the rope was secure, he climbed it. The face of the precipice was perilous though. Maedhros could find no foothold. So he climbed slowly and carefully until, at last, he was by his brother's side.  
  
"Maglor!" Maedhros embraced his brother but was careful to keep hold on the rope. Maglor smiled weakly.  
  
Maedhros looped the rope about his own body and knotted it to secure himself from falling. Then he tried to break the chain with his sword. It would not break, not even to a blade of the Noldor.  
  
"Slay me, Maedhros," Maglor said. "If the bond upon my wrist cannot be broken, and I would rather die than hang here for Morgoth's enjoyment. But I am glad to have seen you once more before my death, for you are great in valor and in heart, and I am proud to call you brother."  
  
"Wasn't the Kinslaying of Alqualonde enough? For which you have composed the Noldolante, the Fall of the Noldor? Nay, Maglor, I will not kill you," Maedhros said. "I will find a way to free you." He circled some of the rope about Maglor's thin, gaunt body until the two brothers were tied together as one. He feared that, once free, Maglor would not have the strength to climb down from their high place upon the precipice. Now what?  
  
"Have you any water?" Maglor asked.  
  
"I'm sorry, Maglor. It's in my knapsack down there."  
  
"Ah. Then that shall be motivation for me to live yet longer," Maglor said wanly.  
  
"I'm sorry, Maglor," Maedhros said. "I've done nothing but cause you pain since coming to save you." He looked up at Maglor's right hand. It was still bleeding. Drawing out the arrow had caused still worse damage to the flesh. Suddenly, Maedhros knew what he had to do.  
  
"It's okay, Maedhros. All is forgiven," Maglor said. "I marvel that you came so close to the enemy in search of me."  
  
"I thought you were in Angband itself," Maedhros said. "It is fortunate that you are here, or I would have no chance of rescuing you."  
  
"Perhaps you have no chance now," Maglor said. "Even so, I admire your tenacity."  
  
"Thank you." Maedhros smiled and then punched his brother hard in the stomach. The air left him, and Maglor collapsed unconscious. "And sorry," Maedhros added belatedly.  
  
Maedhros made sure that Maglor was indeed secured by rope to him. Then Maedhros broke the bones of Maglor's right hand until the crushed hand was able to slip through the manacle. Maedhros kissed his brother's hand and bound it roughly in a piece of his shirt. The blood soaked through swiftly. Inch by inch, Maedhros lowered himself and his brother down the rope along the face of the precipice. When they were yet far from the ground, Maglor awakened.  
  
"My hand..." Maglor said.  
  
"I'm sorry," Maedhros grunted as he lowered them another inch.  
  
"Don't be. It needed to be done." Maglor clung to Maedhros, making the climb easier for Maedhros since he did not have to fear that Maglor would fall. As Maedhros lowered them, Maglor undid the crude bandage on his hand.  
  
"Are you okay?" Maedhros asked. It was a stupid question. Of course he wasn't okay.  
  
Despite the blood flowing from his hand, Maglor said, "I'm fine." He put his hand to the rock face and moved it over the surface.  
  
"What are you doing?" Maedhros asked.  
  
"Leaving a message for Morgoth."  
  
Maedhros didn't understand but didn't give it a second though. He struggled to bring them both down the face of the precipice safely. Every few inches, Maglor reached over Maedhros's shoulder with his bloody hand and touched the rock. Finally, after a long ordeal, they reached the base of the precipice. Maedhros breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"I didn't know if we would make it," Maedhros said.  
  
"You did wonderfully, Little Brother," Maglor said. "Now help me walk, and we will be away from this place."  
  
They moved slowly but the going was not as difficult as going down the rope along the face of the precipice. They had not traveled far when Maglor stopped Maedhros. Maedhros feared for Maglor's health. The water and light food alone were not enough to heal long days of torment.  
  
"It's not that," Maglor said. "Look." Maglor pointed, and Maedhros turned to look back at the precipice.  
  
Written in blood in vertical Tengwar runes on the face of the precipice was: "Morgoth! To the Everlasting Darkness with you!" (3)  
  
Seeing that, Maedhros smiled at his brother, and Maglor smiled back.  
  
---  
  
Adapted from the Silmarillion, p.101. The first line is from Maedhros. The second swapped out Fingon for Finrod and is a logical extension of Maglor. Maedhros called Fingon the valiant before the rescue on Thangorodrim; Finrod was probably known as the faithful before Men.  
  
Straight quote from the Silmarillion, p. 101.  
  
"To the Everlasting Darkness with you." The human equivalent is: "To hell with you." 


End file.
